Help From Afar
by vlnelson55
Summary: After being wounded, Blue Cannon receives unexpected help home to the High Chaparral


HELP FROM AFAR by Vicki L. Nelson

Blue Cannon was finally headed for home. He was starting out a little bit later than he had intended to, but time had simply slipped away from him. Still, there was plenty of daylight left and Blue figured to be home long before anyone at the High Chaparral had a chance to worry about him.

As Blue rode along through the still desert, he thought back over the day he had just spent. He had been at the Jaffrey ranch for most of the day. The Jaffreys were good friends of the Cannons and Blue had a pleasant time there celebrating his pal Jase Jaffrey's twenty-first birthday.

Blue thought back to the day that the invitation had arrived for him and smiled. John, Blue's pa, had grumbled as the party wasn't being held on Blue's usual day off. After much complaining, John finally relented and let Blue go off for the day with his blessing. John justified it all by saying that Blue may as well go, as work was pretty slow right then. Blue smiled to himself again, when he thought of John. He knew that John had put on his 'gruff' act for Blue's benefit. He also knew that under John's gruff exterior, that John didn't really begrudge his son a good time. Blue knew all this, but he would never let on, for Pa's sake.

Blue had arrived at the "Triple J" early in the afternoon. The Jaffreys had all greeted their guest with welcoming smiles. They spent a pleasant afternoon together and had eaten an early supper. All of Jase's favorites had been served: fried chicken, mashed potatoes and gravy, corn, greens, and fluffy baking soda biscuits. To top it all off, a fudge layer cake and homemade vanilla ice cream was served.

When everyone had eaten their fill, they retired to the parlor where Jase then opened his gifts. Ray Jaffrey presented his only son with another hundred head of cattle to add to Jase's ever growing herd of stock. Mellie, Jase's younger sister, gifted her brother with a new blue shirt which she had lovingly stitched by hand for him.

Jase thanked his family, then began to unwrap the present Blue had brought. Blue had known for a long time that his friend was in dire need of a new Bowie knife and Blue had been able to bargain for a new one in Tubac just last week. The wrappings undone, Jase exclaimed, "Gee thanks, Blue, but how'd ya know that this was exactly what I needed?"

"Don't you remember you lent me yours a coupla weeks back and it was so dull, that even heated up, it wouldn't cut through butter!" remarked Blue, wryly.

Jase laughed at his pal's slight exaggeration. He was about to thank everyone again for all his gifts when his father presented him with an additional gift. "Whoa, Son!" said Ray. "Don't thank us all yet 'til you're all finished. I saved this one for last." And with a proud smile, Ray pulled out a thick manilla envelope from his inside vest pocket and handed it to his son with a flourish.

Jase took it and gazed at his father with a look of puzzlement on his face. Opening the envelope, he extracted an important looking document. He began to read, then his mouth opened in surprise. Looking up, he smiled broadly, then gave his father a warm, impetuous bear hug. "Gee thanks, Pa!" he exclaimed. Looking to Mellie and Blue, he waved the document wildly to-and-fro. "Look! Look!" he crowed. "Pa's put my name on the deed to the Triple J, alongside his!"

Ray bestowed a benevolent smile upon his much-loved son. "Well, and why not?" he questioned. "You're twenty-one and a man now. I've planned for this day for a long time now!"

Jase beamed gratefully. Mellie clapped her hands in approval and went to hug both her brother and father. Blue smiled and voiced his congratulations. Privately, he wondered to himself whether his father would do the same for him on his twenty-first birthday. He really couldn't be certain, but he sure wasn't about to hold his breath waiting. Blue knew that John Cannon viewed his son a bit differently than Ray Jaffrey viewed Jase. Blue would turn twenty-one in October, but he knew that John believed that age alone did not make a man. Blue wondered how old he would have to be before Pa considered him a man and not just a 'boy' as his father was fond of calling him. He let out a small sigh that went unnoticed by the Jaffreys, then pasted on a bright smile for his friend's sake.

The gift-giving over, the three young people retired to the front porch for coffee and conversation. It was a perfect Arizona spring day, warm but not too warm. The sky was a beautiful shade of blue and big, fat clouds scudded lazily overhead. A light breeze blew out of the east and the nearby Sierrita Mountains glowed orange from the late afternoon sun.

Jase, Mellie, and Blue sat and relaxed and talked for a long time about a wide variety of topics. They talked of growing up in the Midwest; Blue in Missouri and Jase and Mellie in Illinois. They talked of their parents and of coming to Arizona territory. Jase and Mellie's mother had died en route to Arizona of the smallpox while Blue's mother had died shortly after their arrival at the High Chaparral, struck down by an Apache's arrow. And they talked of their dreams for the future, Blue and Jase both being owners of their own prosperous spreads while Mellie hoped to become a rancher's wife, active in ranch life, while raising a large, close-knit family.

The afternoon passed all too quickly for Blue. He was the youngest on the ranch and it was nice to talk with people of his own age. Blue had been so wrapped up in conversation that he hadn't been aware of how late it had grown. Glancing up, he took note of the position of the sun in the sky and he knew he had lingered too long. Jumping up, Blue exclaimed, "Gosh, it's late! I better get going'!'

Jase and Mellie both looked surprised. "Well then, why don't you just stay the night?" invited Jase.

"Thanks all the same, but it's not that late. If I leave right now, I can get home before dark and anyone misses me," replied Blue.

"Well, if you're sure..." replied Jase, hesitantly. Then seeing Blue couldn't be swayed, Jase and Mellie called out to their father that their guest was leaving, as a ranch hand hurried to retrieve Soapy, Blue's horse.

Ray came out to bid his young guest farewell. He shook Blue's hand and, like his son and daughter, tried to get Blue to spend the night. Once again, Blue politely declined the kind invitation. Blue then shook hands with Jase and Ray and tipped his hat to Mellie. He thanked the Jaffreys once more for their hospitality while they thanked him for spending the day with them. Blue jumped up on Soapy and bade them all good-bye. He then turned and headed out the gate towards his home. Ray stood between his son and daughter with an arm around both of them as they watched Blue ride away. As Blue disappeared over the horizon, Mellie felt a chill come over her. She felt an odd sense of foreboding, but didn't give voice to it. Dismissing it as silly, she soon shrugged it off.

Blue rode on at a steady pace. He was running late, but if he pressed on, he would arrive home only a little bit late. His mind began to drift as Soapy trudged along at a steady gait. He thought back over the day. It had been pleasant and relaxing, full of good food and pleasant conversation. Blue didn't get many opportunities to spend time with people his own age, so he really had enjoyed it. He thought of Jase, his good friend. Jase and Blue looked a lot alike, with blonde hair and blue eyes and their builds were similar. Many people mistook the two of them for brothers, much to their amusement. He then thought of Mellie, Mellie with her long black hair and violet eyes. She sure was pretty and Blue liked her a lot. He smiled as he thought of her.

Blue should have spent more time being more aware of his surroundings and less time daydreaming about his pretty neighbor because the Apaches saw Blue before he saw them. Unfortunately for Blue, it was Soldado and his band. Soldado was a bad Apache and completely unpredictable. John Cannon and the High Chaparral had managed to strike a truce with the other Apache clans, but Soldado was the exception.

Soldado and his braves watched Blue ride along, seemingly unaware of their presence, through narrowed eyes. They knew him to be the son of John Cannon by his yellow hair and pale horse. After a few seconds time, Soldado gave a signal and kicked his horse into action. He and his braves shouted and whooped and waved their lances into the air as they swooped down upon the surprised 'white-eyes.'

Blue, taken completely by surprise, spun around in the saddle at hearing their war whoops. There wasn't any time for him to berate himself for his carelessness. Recognizing Soldado's braves, he turned to flee. Blue was outnumbered, it would be futile to stand and fight. The High Chaparral was too far away; the best Blue could hope for was to lose them in the nearby rocks. Blue didn't know whether Soldado intended to kill him or take him hostage, but he didn't intend to stick around and find out. Leaning low over Soapy's neck, he kicked his horse in the ribs and urged him into a dead run. Soapy was a fast horse and Blue managed to break away into a sizable lead. He had nearly reached an outcropping of rock when he caught an arrow in his back, high up between his shoulder blades.

Blue winced as white-hot pain knifed through him and got a sick feeling in the pit of his stomach. Instinctively, he reached around to try and pull out the arrow, but it was beyond his reach. Blue broke into a cold sweat and reeled in the saddle. He was terribly light-headed, but he knew he was finished if he stopped or even slowed down. Gritting his teeth against the pain, he clutched the saddle horn for support and rode into the rocks, hoping to lose the Apaches.

Then, with their quarry so near, for reasons known only to them, the Apaches abandoned chase. They turned their horses north and headed back to their encampment.

Blue, still thinking he was being chased, escaped further and further into the rocks until, finally, the pain and lightheaded feeling took its toll. He reined the palomino in and half-slid, half-fell from the horse's back. Once on the ground, his knees buckled under him and he sunk to the hard, rocky ground.

Blue lay on his side, clutching his stomach and gasping for breath. His head pounded, his stomach churned and he could feel hot trickles of blood, his blood, trail down his back. He was so light-headed and he heard a strange roaring in his ears. Blue, again, tried desperately to reach the arrow in his back but couldn't. Panting, he gave up. Blue knew he would die, would bleed to death, if he didn't get help soon. It was impossible for him to ride and he doubted anyone could find him in these rocks, plus it would soon be dark. Blue knew it was a slim chance, but he tried to shoo Soapy off. He hoped Soapy would head for home and that someone would spot the familiar horse. Blue waved his hat feebly at his horse, but could manage no more than a whispered, "Go, git!"

Soapy simply stood staring at his master, making no attempt to run off. Blue nearly wept in hopeless frustration, realizing that his strength was ebbing away. As he lay drawing ragged gasps of breath, lightheadedness overtook him. The roaring in his ears grew louder and his vision began to dim as Blue finally lost consciousness. The sun began to set as Soapy stared at the prone body of his master. The horse began to nicker as he waited for Blue to get up and start on their journey, once more.

John Cannon was worried; where was his son? It was growing late and Blue should have been home hours ago. John stood on the veranda and watched as the sun begun to set in the west.

Victoria walked up behind him and laid a hand gently on his arm. He turned to face her, a worried look on his face. "What is it, my husband?" she asked. "Is it Blue, is he not home yet?"

"No, he is not, though he should have been long ago. I should have sent someone out to look for him a while ago, but I wasn't worried then. Now, I am. It's too late now; the desert will soon be dark. I just kept expecting him back any minute...," John trailed off.

"Blue just probably stayed overlong and decided to spend the night at the Jaffrey's," suggested Victoria.

"Well, I hope that's exactly what happened although he should have known it would worry us all when he didn't show up," growled John.

"I think that Blue knew he would be in more trouble with you if he started out late and arrived home after dark, than if he had spent the night at the Jaffrey's," explained Victoria.

John turned too look at her, a bemused look on his face. His second wife sure knew him well, both he and his son. "You're right," he conceded. "Sometimes I think that boy must wonder if he's always bound to be in trouble with me, no matter which way he chooses."

Victoria smiled back, reassuringly, at her husband and they turned to enter the house. Victoria was probably right, thought John. Blue probably had stayed the night at the neighbors and would ride in early in the morning. Still, John couldn't help but feel a pinprick of niggling fear deep down inside him as he turned the lamps down low, in preparation for the night.

The sun went down and the coyotes began their mournful serenade. The heat that had collected during the day now dispersed as darkness descended. All was still except for the sad song of the coyote. The pale glow of the full moon shone down upon a palomino and the still form of a young man who lay sprawled out upon the ground, face down, at the horse's feet. The horse whinnied and pawed at the ground with his front foreleg, but there was no sound at all from the young man.

Dawn broke out over the dessert as Blue awoke to find a strange man leaning over him. "Wha...where am I?" croaked Blue through parched, cracked lips and his eyes were barely able to focus.

"Well, hello there, young fellow," said the man, with a relieved smile. "I been plenty of worried about you. I stumbled upon you during the night. I seen you was hurt bad and removed the arrow from your back and bandaged you up besides. I also built a fire and threw my blanket over you so you wouldn't freeze to death. You was burnin' up with the fever and your body was wracked with chills."

The man laid his hand against Blue's forehead. "You're still burnin' up," he said. He reached around for his canteen laying close by. "Here, boy. Take a drink." He propped Blue's head up with one arm as he held the canteen with the other hand. Blue drank, greedily.

"Easy, boy, easy," cautioned the older man.

"Thanks," Blue whispered and laid his head back down, weak with the effort.

The man frowned with concern. "You still ain't in good shape, lad," he remarked. "I patched you up good as I could but I think you picked up an infection from the arrow. I best get you home..."

Blue's eyelids fluttered open, "High...Chaparral," he gasped, weakly.

The man laid a hand on his shoulder. Smiling gently, he said, "I know your name, boy. Know your kin, too." Blue frowned at the man and tried to concentrate. The stranger was a man about in his mid-fifties, tall and rangy. He had gray hair and steel-blue eyes. His tanned and leathery skin attested to a life spent outdoors. Blue was able to detect a slight southern accent when the man spoke.

"Do I know you?" he asked. "You seem kinda familiar, but I can't place you."

"We met a long time ago, though you probably don't remember," replied the man. "The name's Will. We can't tarry here any longer. I gotta get you home to your kin...Can you sit a horse, boy?"

"I think so," whispered Blue. "Oh, my name's William Cannon, but people call me 'Blue.' "

"I know who you are, son," replied Will, with a kind smile. Rising, he turned to put out the fire, then crossed back to Blue. "This is gonna hurt you some, boy, but it can't be helped. I'll try to be careful, though," he said. He grabbed Blue under the arms and slowly, carefully, pulled the boy to his feet.

Tremendous pain shot through Blue and sweat beaded up on his brow. He bit his lip to prevent screaming out and felt the old dizziness come rushing back.

"Careful, boy, careful," admonished the older man. "Now, I know this is hard on you, but it can't be helped. We gotta get you home, the sooner, the better!"

Will led Blue over to Soapy and half-lifted, half-pushed the younger man up into the saddle. Blue felt weak, feverish, and sick to his stomach. But, by gripping the saddle horn tightly, was able to remain upright. Will looked at him with concern, then mounted his horse, a handsome gray appaloosa. He led the way out of the rocks, Blue following along, haltingly.

Blue swayed in the saddle as time lost all meaning for him. He couldn't have said whether the trip home took forty minutes or forty days. With each step Soapy took, dull pain knifed through Blue's aching head. Will, who led the way, kept looking back at Blue, a worried look on his face.

"Come on, boy," he urged. "You can make it, you gotta make it!" Blue barely heard him, but he kept on going, letting Soapy have his head.

Blue had no idea how far they had traveled or for how long. He kept drifting in and out of consciousness while Will's words barely registered in his fuzzy brain.

"We're nearly there, lad!" encouraged Will. "Don't give up now! If you're havin' trouble sitting up straight in the saddle, why don't you lean across your horse's neck? I'll take the reins and lead you the rest of the way."

Will rode over and took Soapy's reins in hand. Blue, all strength gone, let his head fall forward as Will led him onward.

Blue came to, momentarily. Why had they stopped? He raised his pounding head and gazed up out of pain-glazed eyes.

"Look, boy," said Will, pointing in the distance. "You're home. Here comes your kin to help you."

Blue struggled to focus his eyes and saw his father and uncle, Victoria and Manolito hurry down to the gate, the crew following behind. They were calling out something, but Blue couldn't make it out over the roaring in his ears.

"H...home?" croaked Blue. And the last thing he saw before darkness overtook him, was the sight of Will, turned around in the saddle, a concerned but relieved smile on his face. Blue pitched forward as hands reached up to grab him before he could fall from the saddle in a dead faint. He was carried upstairs and laid gently, face down, across his bed. They hitched up his shirt and carefully examined the wound. Victoria turned to John, an expression of worry in her dark eyes.

"Send for the doctor, and quickly!" she said. "I do not think that I can help him."

A rider was dispatched immediately to fetch the doctor, but it would be hours before he arrived. Blue's family did as much as they could for him, but the wait seemed an eternity as he lay unconscious and feverish.

At long last, Doctor Weaver arrived. He took a good long look at Blue then, with a frown, ushered everyone from the room. Everyone, that is, except for Victoria who would serve as nurse and assistant to him.

Over an hour had passed, when the doctor and Victoria walked downstairs to the great room where the rest of the family waited, anxiously.

Doc Weaver crossed over to John, who jumped nervously to his feet. "How is he, Doc?" he asked. "How's my boy?"

Doctor Weaver peered sharply at John, then spoke. "I won't lie to you, John." he said. "Blue is one sick boy. The infection was a nasty one and his left lung was nicked by the arrow. I did what I could for him, but his fever remains dangerously high. The crisis should pass within the next twelve hours. Keep cool cloths on his forehead and sponge him off with rubbing alcohol to keep the fever down. I left quinine for him if...I mean when he regains consciousness. Send for me if you need me, but there's really nothing more I can do. Now it's in God's hands; pray that his fever breaks and soon."

The room became ominously quiet as the doctor's grim words sank in and the family stared at each other in disbelief. After a few seconds passed, Manolito arose and escorted Doctor Weaver to the front door. The next twelve hours would seem an eternity as the family took turns keeping watch over their youngest member.

It was shortly past midnight and John was alone in his son's room. Manolito had fallen asleep on the sofa in the great room and Buck, unable to face the perhaps inevitable truth, had left the house to be alone with his turmoiled thoughts. Victoria had insisted upon staying at Blue's side, but it was plain to see that she was dead on her feet. John urged his wife to go lay down and rest for a short while. Victoria consented to this after extracting a promise from John that he would awaken her if Blue's condition changed. John agreed and sent his wife off with a gentle kiss on the forehead. Victoria leaned up against him for a long second as if to gather strength. She turned and took one last long look at her still stepson, then trailed down the hallway to her bedroom.

John drew a chair up beside the head of Blue's bed and kept watch over his son. The room was dark and silent, lit only by the flames of the fireplace and the flickering light of the oil lamp, burning low. Though many hours had passed, Blue had yet to regain consciousness. Blue's fever burned bright and perspiration poured off his round face, though his teeth chattered as if he were chilled to the bone. Victoria had piled several quilts over him, hoping to break the fever by sweating it out of him.

Blue had been deathly still, but now he began to thrash about and moan in delirium. He began to speak and John leaned over to catch his son's words. Try as he might, however, Blue's mumbled words were unintelligible to him.

Concerned, John felt Blue's brow and jerked his hand away. It was like touching a hot stove; would his son's raging fever ever break? John wet another cloth and replaced it upon Blue's forehead. Blue continued to thrash about and cry out and John watched him with a worried expression.

Suddenly, Blue ceased thrashing around and lay still again. His frown was replaced by a peaceful, but questioning expression. Blue spoke again and this time what he said was all too clear. Only one word was spoken, one single word that sent shivers up John's spine.

"Ma?" whispered Blue, in wonderment, and his father felt fear grip his heart with icy fingers. Wearily, John buried his head in his hands. He wasn't a particularly religious man, but he said a fervent prayer that his son's life be spared.

It was dark, so dark. Blue looked all about him, but he didn't know where he was. Was he out on the desert? He supposed so, but he didn't know how he had gotten there. However, nothing looked familiar to him. A heavy mist enshrouded him and Blue felt disoriented as panic began to set in. Then, suddenly, Blue felt a presence there with him and a calm feeling overtook him. The mist began to disperse and a figure stepped forward. Blue frowned in concentration and strained his eyes to make out who it was. All at once, he smiled in recognition.

"Ma?" he said. And it was his mother, Annalee Cannon, looking as beautiful as ever and wearing her favorite blue dress. Annalee gave her son a gentle smile, yet never said a word. Blue was so happy to see her, but something puzzled him – something he couldn't put a name to. Nevertheless, he began to call out to her and follow after her. Try as he might, though, he couldn't catch up to her. Finally, she stopped and turned to face her son. Still, she never said a word, simply smiled a sweet smile and shook her head slowly. Once more, the mist rose up around her and Annalee disappeared into the darkness.

Blue fell silent and his body appeared to relax. John, noticing the change, leaned over him once again. He frowned in puzzlement; were those tears on his son's face? John then noticed that Blue's breathing was no longer labored and shallow, but deep and relaxed. He again laid his hand against Blue's brow. Though Blue's face was still flushed, John was relieved to note that his fever, at long last, had broken. Blue's father collapsed into the chair and said a prayer of thanksgiving that his son's life had, indeed, been spared as he had hoped.

"He's coming around!"

Blue heard voices, but they seemed to be coming from a long way off. He struggled to open his eyes, but his eyelids felt like they were being held down by lead weights. Finally, his eyes fluttered open and he stared dazedly up at his family who were all encircled around his bed.

"What...what happened?" he rasped, faintly.

"Well, boy, you just gave us all one heck of a scare, is all!" exclaimed his uncle, leaning over his nephew with a relieved grin upon his face.

Blue knitted his eyebrows thoughtfully and cast his mind back for an explanation. "I was sick, wasn't I? What time is it; have I been asleep long?"he asked.

"You came in yesterday," answered John. "We had to call in the doctor for you. You had a pretty rough night of it and you've slept around the clock."

"A whole day and night?" questioned Blue, unbelievingly. "I was that sick? I can't remember coming home. I do remember running into Soldado and his band coming back from the Jaffrey ranch and catching an arrow in my back. The last thing I remember is..."

Blue's eyes opened wide and he struggled to sit up. Glancing wildly around the room, he said, "Where's Will? Did he leave? I wanted to thank him!"

John laid a hand upon his son's shoulder and gently pushed him back against the pillows. John, Victoria, Buck, and Mano looked at Blue, then stared at one another, puzzled looks upon their faces. Blue rested his head upon the pillow and watched his family carefully. Even though his head felt as if it were stuffed with cotton and he felt as weak as a newborn babe, he couldn't fail to catch the looks that were being exchanged.

"What's wrong?" he asked, suspiciously. Everyone turned to stare at him. Mano, speaking for all, asked "Who is Will?"

Blue frowned and said, "Who is Will? Why, he's the man who found me out on the desert. He removed the arrow from my back, bandaged me up, and brought me home. He's the man who saved my life...Why you saw him when he brought me back here. I couldn't even hold onto the reins, so Will led me and Soapy home. I remember seeing Will's face right before everything went black..."

Blue's words trailed off as he watched his family's expressions grow more and more bewildered. No one spoke for a moment, then John searching his son's face, spoke haltingly. "Son, no one brought you home. You were leaning over Soapy's neck and the reins were trailing. It's a wonder you weren't pitched off. You came up to the gate, lifted up your head, looked over at us, then passed out. We brought you upstairs, saw you were in a bad way, and sent for the doctor. You gave us all some anxious moments last night until your fever finally broke."

John hesitated, then continued on. "Blue, somehow the shaft had broken off, but the head of the arrow was still lodged in your back. There was no bandage and the doctor said it was a wonder you didn't bleed to death...So, it does seem that you got more than your share of miracles yesterday, but you got home under your own steam."

Blue shook his head, stubbornly. "No, Will was there! I saw him; he helped me!" He stopped when he noticed that his entire family was staring at him as if he had lost his mind. Confused, Blue rolled his head to the side to avoid their steady gaze. Biting his lip, he murmured, "Well, I was pretty sick...Maybe I dreamed him...but, he seemed so real!"

Blue looked up at them, sighed and said, "I'm awfully tired."

John smiled in relief and patted his son on the shoulder. "Of course, you are," he said. "You just came through a pretty rough time of it. We'll all clear out and let you sleep."

Victoria smiled at Blue and leaned over to kiss him on the forehead. "I will bring you up some broth later," she promised.

Manolito patted him on the arm and said, "Welcome home, amigo!"

Buck was the last to leave the room. He smoothed down his nephew's blonde hair and stroked his face. "It's good to have you home. Sleep well, little Blue Button," he said, using Blue's earliest nickname. Buck then exited the room, closing the door softly behind him.

Blue, alone at last, lay with his head upon the pillow and stared up at the ceiling. He'd only said what he'd said because his family had all been looking at him as if he'd lost his mind. Blue frowned and searched his mind; Will had seemed so real! Still, if his family hadn't seen the man and since Blue had been so sick, he'd guessed he'd dreamed Will up in the throes of delirium.

Blue's eyelids began to droop. The worry lines on his forehead smoothed out as he closed his eyes and began to sleep, once again.

Two weeks passed. Blue's strength had begun to return and he waited for a clean bill-of-health from the doctor. No more word of Will was mentioned, and as time went by, Blue became more and more convinced that he only dreamed him up.

Blue was growing antsy because he hadn't been able to resume his normal workload. Doc Weaver felt that Blue should rest up as the infection from the wound had been especially bad. Blue was anxious to climb up in the saddle and feel the sun and wind against his face. But until the doctor okayed it, his activities around the ranch had been severely curtailed. Blue had hoped to bend the doctor's rules a little, but John had set him straight on that point. So, until the doctor said so, Blue was fairly housebound.

That was how Blue found himself up in the storage room, helping Victoria. He had been so bored, with nothing to do, that he had volunteered to help his stepmother when she announced her plan to reorganize the room and clear it of the accumulated clutter. Victoria planned to give everything that was no longer of use to the family to the Catholic church in Tucson who would, in turn, distribute it to the needy.

Victoria and Blue were hard at work when Buck, who was passing down the hall, poked his head in curiously. He watched Blue and Victoria sort through the accumulated 'treasures' and began to wander around the room, poking in the corners and nosing around.

"Hey, looky this," he crowed, picking up a large leather bound book and blowing dust off the cover. "I'd forgotten about this!"

Curiosity getting the better of them both, Blue and Victoria stopped what they were doing and wandered over to peek over Buck's shoulder.

"Looky, Blue Boy," said Buck. "It's your mama's picture album. Why, I ain't seen this in a long while!" Buck began to randomly flip through the pages, pointing out different pictures of interest.

"Looky there, Blue Boy. There's you before you got all your curls cut off. You sure was a chubby little thing!" He pointed to a picture of a chubby-cheeked toddler with blonde curls, looking more like a little girl than a little boy.

Victoria took great interest in this. "Oh, Blue," she cried. "You were so cute!" Blue said nothing, merely cleared his throat in embarrassment.

Buck sensing his nephew's unease, began to flip through the rest of the album, once again. "Hey, there's me in my Confederate grays...and, there's yore daddy in his Union blues..." Buck flipped to one last photograph. "Oh, look at this," he said. "It's a picture of yore mama and daddy on their wedding day, and here's another one of their wedding day and there's me and there's our Pa, your Grandpa William. You was named for him."

Buck smiled, "Did you ever know how close yore mama and our pa was? Why, they was thick as thieves. Pa used to call her 'daughter' and I think he almost believed she was. She could ask him for anything and he'd do his best to grant her request. Like to have killed her when he died...I sure wish you coulda knowed him. 'Course, you was just a baby when he died."

Blue looked at the photograph and his blue eyes grew round. He gasped and turned white and Buck turned around to peer at him, sharply. "What's wrong?" asked Buck, noticing the strange look on his nephew's face.

"Nothing...I...I don't feel too good...I think I'm gonna go lay down," whispered Blue.

Buck frowned and took off one of his work gloves. Taking a firm hold of Blue's arm, he laid the back of his hand against his nephew's forehead. His frown deepened. "Well, you do seem a might warm and you look a might peaked," he remarked. "Maybe you overdone, you best go lie down."

Blue nodded and Victoria, who looked worried, sided with her brother-in-law. "Yes, go lay down," she urged. "I will look in to see if you need anything later." Blue nodded again, blankly, and trailed down the hall to his room, leaving both Buck and Victoria to exchange worried looks.

Supper came and went with no appearance from Blue. Victoria, concerned about him, carried a tray up to his room and knocked gently upon his door.

"Who is it?" called a muffled voice from inside.

"Victoria," she answered. "May I come in? I brought you something to eat; we were all worried about you when you missed the evening meal."

There was a brief hesitation, then Blue replied, "Come in."

Victoria entered the room to find Blue laying across his bed, his head pillowed upon his arms, and staring up at the ceiling. Setting the tray down upon a side table, she crossed over to him and asked, "Blue? Are you feeling all right?"

Blue made no reply, simply nodded, and Victoria could see that her stepson was in no mood for conversation. "Well...I will say good night then," she said, turning to leave, but Blue stopped her at the door.

"Uh, Victoria?" he called and she turned to look at him. Blue stared at her, suddenly struck shy. No more words were forthcoming, and he turned from her gaze.

"Yes, Blue?" she prompted, sensing his inner struggle. Blue looked back at her, once more, desperation showing plainly in his pale blue eyes.

"I have to tell you something," he whispered, urgently. "If I don't, I think I'll go crazy! I can't tell Pa or Uncle Buck or anyone else...," his words trailed off.

"Go on, Blue," urged Victoria, smiling gently at him.

"You might think I'm crazy...Maybe I am crazy?" he said.

Victoria stood looking at him, compassionately, and waited for him to speak what was so plainly weighing heavily on his mind.

"Victoria," said Blue. "Do you remember when I told you all about Will, the man I said saved me? The man none of you saw?"

Victoria frowned in bewilderment. "Si," she answered. "I remember."

Blue hesitated once more, then reluctantly spoke up. "You're gonna think I'm crazy...but that man, Will, the man that saved me...He was my Grandfather Cannon. I recognized him from the photograph. I remember thinking he looked familiar to me and now I know why. I'd seen that photograph before when I was a kid."

Blue dared a look at Victoria. She stood stock still, brown eyes opened wide and mouth slightly open, staring at him in amazement.

Blue could scarcely look at her. Biting his lower lip, he whispered dully, "You do think I'm crazy, don't you?"

Victoria then spoke up. "Blue, there is something you do not know. The doctor said that you would surely have died had you arrived home any later that day. Why, even one more hour could have made all the difference in the world. I do not think that you are crazy, Blue. I think that there are more things in Heaven and on earth than you or I could ever dream of. I think someone knew that you needed help and it was provided for you...Wait here, I have something to show you."

She left the room and returned with a large leather bound book in her arms. "My faith gives me great comfort," she said. "Do you know we believe that angels come in all forms?" She placed the book in Blue's hands and he could see it was a well-worn Bible.

"Read Exodus, Chapter 23, Verse 20,"she said. "You will see; everything will be all right." Victoria then patted him upon the arm and left his room.

Blue sat looking after her, for the longest time, then looked down at the Bible clutched in his hands. Turning to Exodus 23:20, he began to read:

"...See, I am sending an angel ahead of you to guard you along the way..."

Startled, Blue looked up from the page as an eerie feeling washed over him. He slowly turned to gaze at the photo of his grandfather which lay upon his bedside table. Blue had never known his grandfather, but he believed with all his heart and soul, that William Cannon, long since passed away, had led his grandson home and saved his life on that fateful day, two weeks ago. After all, his Uncle Buck told him that William 'Will" Cannon had always tried to move Heaven and earth to grant any request that came from his 'daughter,' his much beloved, Annalee."

'The End'


End file.
